


Whenever You Call (It's Electric)

by Puppetqueen



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, Music Video: MAMA (EXO), OT12 - Freeform, Pre-Relationship, mentions of past members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-14 17:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19278226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puppetqueen/pseuds/Puppetqueen
Summary: Jongdae can feel the oncoming downpour for days before there’s even a hint of it in the horizon.





	Whenever You Call (It's Electric)

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt Petal:** #104  
>  **Author's Note:** A/N: This took me longer than it should have for only 7k+ words. Thank you to mod honeybee for being patient and granting me that extension. It was very solely needed. That being said, here I present to you my take on the EXO Origin story/Mama!au. It’s really barebones in terms of world building and dialogue, but I went through a million revisions before settling on this one. I probably watched both Chinese and Korean versions of the Mama MV a million times and 7 years too late, but I did base heavily from scenes in those videos as well as this EXO Concept Breakdown (https://appleporcupinekpop.blogspot.com/2014/02/exo-concept.html). 
> 
> It’s a very long read but so good, and so necessary for this fic. Basic concepts about electricity and other such science-y stuff come from here (https://sciencing.com/electricity-go-ground-5494279.html) and here (http://www.physics4kids.com/files/elec_intro.html) but that being said not all the science stuff on here is accurate, I did have to take creative licenses in order to fit the fic. Did not have the time (or the confidence ㅠㅠ) to get this Beta read so all grammar boo boos are mine. Sorry >.<

 

 

 

 

 

_Electricity (whether it comes from lightning or any other source) heads to the ground as a result of some very basic forces. Basically, clouds filled with tons of negatively charged particles are attracted to the positively charged ground. Once the buildup is large enough, those electrons collect and zip through the sky to a conductor on the ground. - Sciencing.com_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jongdae can feel the oncoming downpour for days before there’s even a hint of it in the horizon. It’s the first one after a long, arduous winter and Jongdae waits for it with a manic sort of anticipation. The air becomes charged and heavy in the cliffs surrounding the manor house, and when Jongdae stands at the edge, the static is almost tangible, sparking around him. The waves below crash against the cliffside in thunderous symphony, a mirror fitting the turmoil raging inside him. 

Three of them gone, picked off one by one by the Red Force while in search of their mirrors, the other half of themselves. 

It had started with the eclipse. Long moments of darkness at the end of a wintery January, where everything was simultaneously confusing but perfectly aligned; long moments that allowed each of them a glimpse of others, those in the beyond, a different world. With the eclipse came a boy, hiding in the shadows, there, watching but just out of reach. He’s like a shadow flickering in and out of reality; there one minute and then gone the next. 

Luhan had caught him though, latched on to his mind before he could disappear and was shown a world - a maybe, could be, possibility - that glittered behind his eyelids. He’d become obsessed with the things he’d seen, forgone sleep and food to watch over crystal globes full of things only he could see. Then he’d seen red and vanished. 

Yifan went next. Weeks upon weeks of nights consumed by dreams of an explosion of fiery wings, a blazing phoenix, before his dragon woke unbidden from its deep sleep and flew them off into a scarlet horizon, chasing after dreams he could not explain. 

Then it was Tao. Just weeks after their duizhang had disappeared, a butterfly with wings the color of blood came on a breeze and wouldn’t leave. One butterfly became two, and then three, and then a dozen, until a swarm descended on the manor and took Tao away on a hurricane that came out of nowhere. 

Jongdae- Jongdae feels like he’s next. When the lightning crackles and the thunder roars, the earth vibrates and he can feel it in his bones. His mirror controls the earth and Jongdae feels himself being called to dive head first into the soil to answer, till he disappears too. 

He tells no one of this. Just stands at the cliffs or ventures onto the sandy beach below and does his best to connect with the electric currents swirling in the atmosphere, trying to keep his head on straight. 

Because his mirror isn’t evil, he’d figured out that much during the eclipse. His mirror is all large, doe eyes, intense but kind, a generous mouth pursed into a frown marring a handsome face. His mirror is good, Jongdae knows it deep in his soul, but the summons of the earth that connect them are tainted, wrong. From his mirror, but not. Jongdae must not succumb to these false summons, he knows that much, but it’s hard. The only thing keeping him on this plane, with his mind intact is the heavy voltage in the air, weighing him down and anchoring him to the only existence he’s known. 

_The moon_ , he thinks, _not just the eclipse, but it has something to do with the moon_. He feels its pull almost as strongly as the tremors of the earth, has tried to fight many a sleepless, wintry night the whispers that drag him out of bed and onto a sandy frigid beach, sitting with feet just at the edge of the tide and playing with static between his fingertips. _Dangerous._

It’d make sense, for the moon to be an accomplice - maybe even the culprit - of these strange events surrounding them. Jongdae has distant memories that don’t quite belong to him, tucked into the deepest recesses of his mind and surfacing only in his dreams, while he’s half asleep. All of them do - _did?_ \- a secret, unspoken knowing that they don’t quite belong to this earth, not entirely. There’s a pull from the moon, tugging them all to look up at the sky and into the vastness of space, searching the void for something they can’t explain. Luhan in his own searching, had found them one by one and - at Yifan’s instruction - coaxed each of them from an empty, boring existence and brought them _home._

Jongdae has never looked back. Had left the easy, predictable monotony of a life dictated by people who had birthed him but couldn’t understand him, who feared the spark in his eyes and the crackle of electricity in his palms. He knows it’s the same for the others, shunned and misunderstood by those closest to them for gifts and abilities they had no control over or worse - used and abused by them instead. 

Until Luhan had found them. Until Yifan had given them a home.

So Jongdae hangs on to his sanity in the only way he knows how, by taking the jagged shards of power churning inside him and releasing them into the sky. Energized matter lights up the heavens, bolts of lightning spitting and crackling into the waves in front of him. The remnants of charred saplings split and smoke behind him where the lightning finds them in its search for the positive energy of the gravel beneath his feet. His screams are lost in the boom of thunder that follows, catharsis hard won and bitter in his throat. 

Jongdae falls to his knees when it’s over, palms full of static when he sinks them into the dirt, head bowed, exhausted and drained. He’s empty now, mind numb and rooted firmly into this world but somehow, when the earth trembles, Jongdae knows it’s a reply. 

Whether it’s from his mirror or an illusion of the Red Force, Jongdae cannot tell.

—

Days pass, weeks even, though the concept of time isn’t the same without Tao around to manipulate it. The concept of ‘home’ isn’t quite the same these days either. With three holes, glaringly, helplessly, unable to be ignored. Three holes carved out of their defenses, leaving them vulnerable. Three holes at home and in Jongdae’s soul, assuaged only by the crackle of electricity or the subtle, seductive rumble of the earth. It’s a perilous limbo he knows he can’t balance forever, but Jongdae is helpless, too, doesn’t know how to temper the conflicting pull of mind over matter threatening to tear him apart or whisk him away. 

It’s the night of the full moon and Yixing is at the piano, nimble fingers coaxing a slow, haunting melody from the black and white keys. The small fire they’d lit in the grate is nothing but embers now, nothing to combat the chill that naturally follows the eldest of them around. But Minseok had already gone up to bed, complaining of a headache after long hours spent managing the affairs of the estate Yifan had left them, so while the room is cold, it’s not unbearable. Jongdae quite likes it, actually. It gives him an excuse to curl up on their plush couch, wrapped in a thick, heavy quilt he’d stolen from Tao’s empty room, and listen to Yixing pour his heart out into the keys. 

Tonight, Yixing’s heart sounds like sadness and regret. Like longing and yearning, and a sliver of hope all rolled into one. Jongdae always makes the mistake of labelling Yixing as his softest hyung. Jongdae forgets the strength it takes to ease their aches and pains by taking it from their bodies and into his own. He forgets that behind Yixing’s easy going nature and propensity to roll with the punches lies a heart of steel, as ruthless and practical and sharp as Minseok’s shards of ice and Jongdae’s own bolts of lightning. 

Though heart of steel or not, Jongdae guesses he’s not the only one feeling sentimental tonight. On the mantle above the fireplace is a row of Tao’s potted plants, white roses, carnations, and orchids drooping sadly from neglect. They’d thrived, just as the garden outside had thrived, when Tao had been around to tend to them. Their youngest was a natural green thumb, though he hated to admit it, saying he only needed the flowers to bloom nicely so he could hone his skills with a sword by slicing through their petals. Without Tao to mind them the garden outside had grown barren and the flowers indoors are barely a shadow of their former beauty. With every pass of Yixing’s fingers over the piano keys, however, the petals seem to wilt less and less.

Right before his eyes, Jongdae watches his softest hyung slowly bring life back into Tao’s precious flowers. The roses first, because they had been Tao’s favorite, even with all their thorns; he always claimed they were the most beautiful because he gave them his blood, sweat, and tears. Minute after minute as Yixing’s song crescendos, the roses start to perk up, new blooms unfurling from the once shriveling stalks. The carnations follow, and soon the orchids too, are reaching for the ceiling, curling around the short stick placed in the middle of their soil to help hold them up. 

It’s magic, watching Yixing play. Magic, the way he breathes life back into the fading flowers. And maybe it’s magic, too, that brings the flash of light.

Jongdae, so enthralled by the shimmering and glimmering of the flowers on the mantle, that he doesn’t notice the odd glow emanating from the small, ornate standing mirror perched at the very end of the row. Yixing doesn’t notice either, so engrossed in his playing, not until a white light bursts from the mirror and cuts into the room. 

Jongdae is blinded for a few seconds too long, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he falls off the couch in his efforts to untangle himself from the blanket he’d wrapped himself in. 

“Hyung!” He screams for Yixing through the barest slits of his fingers, trying and failing to see into the light, but no one answers. Jongdae tries to get up, scrambling across the floor in the direction of the piano. He screams again, this time for Minseok when he doesn’t find Yixing at the bench. Seconds later he feels a pulse of energy and ice beneath his knees on the floor. Mind reeling, Jongdae starts to gather electricity between his fingers when suddenly the light cuts out. 

Dread curdling in his gut, he lifts his head and blinks away the white streaks in his vision. Jongdae makes out Yixing’s form standing at the mantle and talking into the mirror. Before Jongdae can call out for Yixing one more time, he hears him instead.

“Who are you?” Yixing asks, seemingly unbothered by the still bright glow of whatever is being reflected back at him. 

_Baekhyun_ , the mirror answers. _I’m Baekhyun. Who are you?_

Before Yixing can answer another pulse of energy ripples through the house, coating everything in frost, including the piano, the walls, the flowers, and finally the mirror too. The ice around it dulls the mirror’s glow and with it, Yixing’s attention. Minseok careens into the room seconds later.

“What’s happening?” He yells, pajamas rumpled, hair in disarray but eyes glinting and ready for a fight. 

“I-“ Yixing stutters, wide eyed and teeth chattering. Jongdae too, feels the cold seeping into the blanket still coiled around his knees. 

“The mirror,” Jongdae quells a shudder at the drop in temperature and answers for the both of them. “It’s talking.”

—

Baekhyun is as bright a light as the balls of energy he controls. He’s all boxy smiles, easy laughter, and teasing curiosity all rolled into one. Yixing is riveted, seemingly unfazed by the circumstances, by the sudden, strange way Baekhyun had appeared. 

After Baekhyun comes Junmyeon, his face reflected back at them from another mirror, a bigger one they’d commandeered from Yifan’s room. He appears to them in a splash of water across the reflective surface, melting away Minseok’s defensive sheet of ice, initial suspicions of evil quickly dispelled somehow by the other man’s pull on their eldest. Not evil, Minseok assures him, but Jongdae is paranoid nonetheless. 

How do you know? He’d asked, but didn’t get an answer. At least not a verbal one. Because with Junmyeon comes the rest: Chanyeol - the tallest, wielding fire. Jongin - quiet but with friendly eyes and able to teleport himself anywhere. Sehun - the youngest, with a stoic face, controlling wind. The three of them are boisterous, but become considerably subdued when they realize their mirrors aren’t among them. 

“We felt it,” Chanyeol says, looking as if he was at a loss. “When the others were - taken.” He pauses, a hitch in his breath, eyes averted, and brows furrowed as if remembering a great pain. Taken, he says, as if they hadn’t had a choice. Jongdae finds that he likes that description better than up and left, vanished, or even simply disappeared. 

“It was like being ripped apart, into a thousand different pieces,” Sehun continues, the words trembling though his face remains stoic. 

“They haven’t been the same since then. Their control over their powers has been erratic,” Junmyeon says after a long silence full of unspoken grief. “Chanyeol would set the bed on fire every night if I don’t sleep in the same room and put it out before it spread. Sehun almost blew the roof off the house the other day when Baekhyun teased him about the dishes in the sink. And Jongin,” Junmyeon pauses then, contemplative. “He seems the most normal - he’s always been quiet. But these days his silence just doesn’t feel right, too lost in his own head.”

There’s more discussion after that, but Jongdae tunes most of it out when finally there’s Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo is the answer to the unspoken question Jongdae has been nursing for months now, since the eclipse. He knows it with a resounding surety deep in his soul the moment their eyes meet in the mirror. They need no introductions it seems; names feel mostly like a formality after the way they’ve gotten to know each other by the cliffs, with every crack of thunder and every quake of the ground in reply. It isn’t one-sided either, this knowing, because he sees his bolts of lightning reflected in Kyungsoo’s eyes, calling to him, pulling him in just like crackling, negative ions are pulled towards the positive charge of the earth. 

So no, Kyungsoo isn’t evil. None of them are, it seems, and meeting them fills an empty space in Jongdae’s chest, one he’d tried to ignore because it seemed ludicrous otherwise. How could he yearn for something he never had? Miss people he’d never met? 

Junmyeon - _hyung_ , Jongdae muses distractedly, is a leader, sort of - throws around words like: parallel universes, Yin and Yang, the Forces of Darkness, and a Tree of Life sounding fantastical and ridiculous, like something straight out of fiction. If Jongdae couldn’t rain lightning and thunderbolts into the earth with a flick of his wrist he’d believe almost none of it. As it is, even with the proof of it literally sparking at his fingertips and some stranger, bending water at will and talking out of a mirror from some kind of alternate dimension, it’s still hard to wrap his mind around the concept. 

It’s quickly decided that their best chance of fighting the evil that’s haunted them, stolen from them, and terrorized them is to come together as one. It’s clear that their side has suffered more loss and that the best plan of action is that there is more power in numbers. If they don’t want to lose any more people they’ll have to stick together. The how seems almost impossible.

“How does that work exactly? Jongin’s teleportation?” Minseok asks. He seems to be the least fazed among all of them, directing the conversation and asking pertinent questions. Yixing has stayed quiet since the conversation started and Jongdae simply can’t believe this is actually happening to be of any use gleaning information.

“Teleporting around drains his energy, depending on the cycle of the moon and the distance he wants to travel,” Junmyeon explains. “A full moon would be best, putting him at peak condition, but even then Jongin needs a connection, no matter how small, to be able to teleport where he wants to go. He needs to be able to see it in his head, an anchor to tether him to the other side. If this was before the others were taken, I’d be less wary because Luhan would be that anchor. As his mirror he would be the connection. But without Luhan there - if he tries and it actually works - I’m afraid of what might tether him to your side.”

Another heavy silence follows Junmyeon’s revelation, evil implied. It makes the hairs on the back of Jongdae’s neck prickle in apprehension, unease settling like stone low in his gut. 

“It’ll work,” Jongin says quietly, his words loud in the silence. He says it with a finality that belies his young face, so sure, so absolutely sure, that Jongdae can’t help but want to believe him. “I’ve been there before. During the eclipse. I can do it again.”

—

The only way to find out is to wait for the next full moon. 

It’s an agonizing wait, twenty nine - almost thirty - days of breaths held in anticipation, long days, riddled with apprehension and doubt. It’s easier to talk to each other now, as if establishing that initial connection had strengthened their ties. They no longer need significant displays of power to be able to summon each other in the mirrors. They establish timelines, figure out that they stand on different grounds but see the same sky, that the full moon falls on the same day for all of them. There’s a longer discussion, a separate one, just Jongdae, Minseok, and Yixing, involving tempers flared and voices raised, about traps and losing each other and trust in the unknown. 

“No, listen to me,” Jongdae had said. “I hear it too. The earth, calling me. Every time I bring the thunder and lightning - the earth, it sings. And I want to go. I want to answer. But I don’t know where it’ll take me. And isn’t that how it starts? How the others disappeared? Searching for mirrors, answering a call they couldn’t resist. Where are they now?”

It’s a good point but it isn’t enough to dissuade them. Jongdae loses that argument and finds himself at the cliffs again, screaming his anger and frustrations into the aether in a mess of lightning and thunder. 

But this time, when the ground quakes and the soil rolls beneath him Jongdae makes peace with the inevitable, gives in to the siren song reverberating underfoot and feeds more electricity into the earth. He revels in the pull, the way a loud crack of thunder and more shards of lightning gets a similar response in kind: tidal waves, racing to engulf the beach in a chaos of rapid currents and billowing white foam as even the tectonic plates beneath the ocean floor crash to match Jongdae’s rage. It’s a tsunami waiting to happen, waiting to devastate and destroy, waiting to conquer. Waiting, waiting, waiting, it seems, for Jongdae. 

And when Jongdae walks away from the edge of the cliff that day, he doesn’t feel empty. He feels powerful, supercharged, and reckless. Ready. For what, he isn’t sure, but he knows the answer lies under the light of the full moon and the feeling of his fingers sinking into the dirt. He does so before making his way home; kneels and plunges both hands into the soil wet with rain and sea spray, digs in until he’s knuckles deep, chanting Kyungsoo Kyungsoo Kyungsoo in this head, forcing static and electricity into the ground until he can feel the earth rock against his palms. He exhales sharply in relief at this connection.

It feels, when all is said and done, like a _promise._

—

Jongin greets them at the next full moon with a loud pop and a billow of black smoke.

He staggers into Luhan’s private quarters, just like he said he would, a sweaty, panting mess. “Told you I’d make it,” He gasps before his eyes roll back, slumping sideways before anyone could catch him. 

“He’s fine,” Yixing declares after a thorough once over and all three of them help settle the younger man on Luhan’s bed. 

Luhan’s room isn’t one any of them frequent, even when Luhan had been around, first warned away from entering by the older man, and second, put off by the strange energies that emanate from the room itself. The room is without windows, the walls a stark black, the door the same color and almost indistinguishable from the walls when it isn’t open. The door has no knobs, no handles, no grooves to open it, usually controlled by Luhan’s mind and kept firmly shut from anyone who isn’t him. Since he’s disappeared, the door had remained ajar, unlocked, almost as if begging one of them to enter and look for clues inside to find him. 

Jongdae has been inside a few times since Luhan disappeared, but like the rest of them, he’d been unable to make sense of anything inside. 

The room itself is fairly large, but the ceiling looks endless, seeming so far away against the backdrop of floating silver spheres. The spheres are countless, in many different sizes, eerie balls of light suspended in the air, unmoving since their master left them. Jongdae knows they can change shapes, form into crystal globes or elongate into mirrors to see into distant futures and alternate universes - or so he guesses. Luhan never talked about what he does in this room, what he sees in these spheres. All of them except Yifan afraid to ask what other realities lie beyond their own. 

Jongin looks small in the middle of the bed, despite his considerable height. So small and way too young, Jongdae thinks, as he watches Yixing tuck him in. 

“Let’s update the others while we let him rest,” Yixing says, leading them out of the room. 

It takes Jongin a few hours to recover, after that first time. Yixing has to stick close, arms looped around the younger man, siphoning healing energy into him as he shows Jongin around. Jongin is quiet and shy, every bit as young and impressionable as Jongdae pegged him to be. He’s also sweet, a little younger than Tao, though just as handsome and just as tall even if their taste in clothing differs drastically. Jongin likes loose pants and overly large t-shirts, particularly drawn to sweater paws. It’s why, after their initial raid of Tao’s closet and coming up with nothing but tight jeans and lots of leather, they move on to Yifan’s wardrobe instead. There they find an abundance of oversized clothing to fit Jongin’s aesthetic, as well as keep him comfortable. If Jongdae sneaks away a sweater or two for his own purposes, no one looks twice. 

Jongin stays for 3 days before he musters up the strength to attempt the journey back. When it’s time, he pulls out a little pouch and empties the contents to show them. Inside there’s a smooth stone, about the size of a child's fist, a small vial full of clear liquid, an engraved Zippo lighter, a butterfly encased in amber, and a single shining crystal hanging off a thin leather cord. 

“My anchors,” he explains. “So that it’s easier for me to come back next time.” 

Then he insists on collecting something from the three of them. Jongdae thinks long and hard about what he should give Jongin, finally deciding on a hard piece of scorched tree bark from on of the unfortunate saplings by the cliffs. It leaves a smear of soot everywhere it touches and Jongdae thinks it’s fitting that he leaves his mark. Yixing prepares a pressed flower and Minseok a small globe with a never ending winter staged inside. 

Jongin gathers their offerings with a satisfied smile and a fond squeeze for each of them. And then in the blink of an eye, he’s gone, nothing but tendrils of smoke that dissipate quickly where he’d stood. 

—

Jongin comes back just days later with another loud pop in a cloud of smoke, this time with a passenger in tow. 

Chanyeol is tall, all long legs, gangly limbs, and too many teeth when he greets them. He’s not quite as tall as Yifan, but close enough if Jongdae is going by the crick in his neck as he looks up at the new face. Everything about him is big and loud, from his eyes, to his body, and to his voice. His hair is a bright red that he claims is _all natural_ , even going so far as to offer Jongdae proof with a hand at the waistband of his jeans and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. It’s that twinkle that does Jongdae in, makes him trust that Chanyeol’s giant goofball demeanor is genuine. They strike up a fast friendship, against Jongdae’s better judgement. 

Jongin sleeps for three days, the energy needed to transport himself outside of the full moon, as well as another person taking its toll. Chanyeol himself isn’t too worse for wear, merely disoriented after they’d arrived. He jokes that Jongin’s other superpower is sleeping, regardless of teleporting or not. Yixing isn’t worried, keeping Jongin close in his room, arms wrapped around him as often as possible to feed him energy. 

When he wakes, it’s with a determination to leave and come back that is underscored by an urgency he didn’t have before. “I have to go,” he says, antsy and pacing, hands clenched in another of Yifan’s borrowed t-shirts. “I can’t explain it but-“ he gestures to his head, shaking it, looking lost. “There’s- something, something in my head telling me I have to go. That I have to bring everyone together.”

There are a lot of protests, but Jongin cannot be swayed. Jongdae doesn’t try particularly hard to stop him either, knowing all too well what it’s like to be pulled towards something he can’t name, a whisper of something in the back of his mind that drags him out from between the sheets and fighting not to give in. As usual, he tells no one how often those whispers have become, urging him out of bed and screaming into the sky with increasing frequency. Lately he’s taken to sitting on the beach, hands and feet buried in the sand as the sky crackles and the earth rumbles beneath him. It’s an entrancing, addictive way to lose time and if the whole house wasn’t distracted by newcomers, Jongdae doesn’t think he’d be able to get away without anyone noticing. 

After Chanyeol comes Baekhyun, who is a mix of shy cuteness and brazen compliments, able to get a smile out of any of them even in these strange, trying times. Baekhyun and Yixing gravitate towards each other like moths to a flame, coming together like magnets the moment Baekhyun reorients himself after he and Jongin arrive. Even Yixing, who is always friendly but generally reserved around strangers, welcomes Baekhyun’s bright energy with a bright smile of his own and open arms. Together, they herd Jongin to bed, falling into the sheets to curl like commas comfortably around the younger man as if they’d known each other all their lives. 

If anyone finds their familiarity strange, no one comments on it. Baekhyun fits in with their growing little commune as easily as if he’d been there all along. Chanyeol does too, as well as Sehun, when he arrives. 

Sehun, it turns out, is the actual youngest when they do the math, younger than Jongin by only a few months. He’s tall, too, and much too skinny, and painfully shy. Jongdae would feel offended by all the height being thrown around all of a sudden if he isn’t promised that the last two people they have yet to meet weren’t more his size. 

They’re quick to find out that Sehun isn’t so much shy as he is insecure about his slight lisp, tongue curling into his front teeth a little too long on a few letters. There’s a quiet grace about him that’s reminiscent of Tao’s own fluid movements and watching him rummage slowly through Tao’s wardrobe with careful hands leaves Jongdae with an uncomfortable pang in his chest. Sehun lingers in Tao’s room the same way Chanyeol does in Yifan’s: as if they’d lost something they’d just found, rifling through belongings that had been left behind, getting to know someone second hand.

It makes Jongdae both anticipate and dread the next time Jongin rolls out of bed and insists on making another trip. There’s only one of two people he could come back with, and Jongdae doesn’t know if he’s ready to come face to face with the man in the mirror, a someone who’s supposed to complement him and fit together like a glove. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to give up nights by the shoreline or long hours overlooking the sea from above. He doesn’t know if he can let go of the feeling of pure power and energy that courses through him when he brings down the lightning and the thunder, of being whipped in the face by howling winds and the spray of sea water until he can’t breathe. 

Most of all, he doesn’t know if he wants that voice in his head to stop, if he can live without the summons of the earth, that subtle, seductive vibration that ripples through him when he pushes his palms into the soil. 

—

Jongin takes weeks to come back.

He hears from Chanyeol who hears from Yixing who hears from Baekhyun who was told by Junmyeon that Jongin had collapsed when he’d gotten back to their side after delivering Sehun. They’d rushed him to the hospital, the only alternative without Yixing to leech energy from. 

“He’s stable for now,” Junmyeon reassures them through the mirror, though the furrow in his brow as he says the words belie his worry. “He pushed himself a little too hard and the only thing he can do for now is rest. It’s best we wait for the next full moon before we try anything else.”

Everyone agrees that it’s the best course of action and slowly, they get back into the cycle of getting to know one another and learning to work together. With the new additions to the household emerges a new dynamic. Household chores and various duties are once again divided into six, though they have to shuffle some things around. Minseok continues to take the reins of managing the affairs of the estate, something that had originally been Yifan’s job as it was his family’s house. He delegates most of the cleaning to Jongdae, Chanyeol, and Baekhyun, pointing out they cause the most disorder anyway with their various antics and horseplay. Minseok dubs them the ‘beagle line’ when Jongdae whines at the injustice. 

Yixing volunteers to tend to the neglected garden, enlisting the maknae’s help with little protest. Baekhyun follows them outside as often as he can when he’s done with his own chores. Chanyeol pretty much commandeers the kitchen as soon as he arrives and while he’s no gourmet chef, his simple recipes have already elevated their usual take-out or ready-made meals to a whole new level. 

“I can’t wait for you guys to taste Kyungsoo’s cooking,” he says while whipping up something at the stove. “He’s the real cook.”

“He’s really good at cooking _and_ cleaning too,” Baekhyun interjects with a pout from where he’s washing Chanyeol’s used pans and dishes at the kitchen sink. 

“I like him already,” Minseok mutters from where he stands beside Baekhyun, supervising his dishwashing abilities with a critical eye.

With everyone similarly occupied day after day, Jongdae is able to slip out of the house undetected almost every night. The song in his head has become louder as the weeks pass, the warm, summer months soon coming to a close. The season for summer showers and thunderstorms is almost past, taking with it the heat and the moisture in the air, making it harder and harder for Jongdae to call lightning from the sky without using his own energy. Without enough electricity to feed into the earth, Jongdae feels like he’s drowning in the melody in his mind, ringing in his ears no matter how empty and exhausted he feels at the end of a long night. He’s so tired, so utterly drained from his nightly excursions that he barely has the strength to drag himself back into the house without being caught. It takes everything he has to stealthily make his way back as quietly as possible, before Chanyeol gets up to start breakfast and making sure to dust off all the sand and dirt before entering. 

It’s fitting, then, that Jongdae’s world tilts on its axis just as he was getting used to this routine of sneaking around. 

Jongdae knows the moment Kyungsoo comes into his plane of existence because the earth quite _literally_ rolls under his feet when he arrives. From his seat on a log, Jongdae watches with wide eyes and bated breath as the tide rushes out of the beach as the ground sways, knocking him off the log and plunging fingers into the sand for balance. Time stops then - suspended for a long moment as the energy that had been coiling for days in Jongdae’s gut snaps abruptly, sending bolts and bolts of lightning screaming from the sky as Jongdae howls at the release. Thunder booms and claps in rapid succession as the beach crackles with the sudden static charge of the electric field Jongdae is trying hard to contain. He has to feed it into the earth, make it disappear before it touches the water or else he’s dead, nothing left of him except charred skin and bone lost in the sand. The ground sways yet again and Jongdae is acutely aware of the tide rushing at him in one large wave. He can’t drive the electric currents into the ground fast enough for them to lose charge and Jongdae thinks this is it- this is how he goes. This is how he disappears into oblivion. Just like Tao. Just like Yifan. Just like Luhan. Never even getting the chance to-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Jongdae is nothing like Kyungsoo imagines._

_In the mirror, Jongdae is all curving, kitten lips stretching into broad smiles and dark eyes sparkling with mischief. He jokes easily with Chanyeol and Baekhyun, feeding off their energy to taunt and tease everyone around them, much to Kyungsoo’s annoyance. But where Chanyeol fumbles with his jokes and Baekhyun goes too far, Jongdae instinctively seems to know his limits, just to what extent he can tease before Kyungsoo is wanting to hurl socked pebbles in his reflection. In the mirror, Jongdae is a bright aura, captivating even without the electric currents he makes dance in his palms to show off. He can be quiet too, serious, when the situation calls for it. Jongdae is steadfast, voices his opinion on how they should move forward without hesitation, does it in a way that makes the hyungs listen and consider his words. He’s found a balance Kyungsoo can only admire from afar._

_But Kyungsoo is more interested in the Jongdae beyond the mirror. He’s more curious about the flash of lightning and rumble of thunder he sees in his dreams, so powerful that Kyungsoo is jarred awake from a deep sleep and drawn out of bed to struggle with control. Kyungsoo wakes, one too many times, with a thunderstorm roaring in his head, a scream full of anger and anguish ringing in his ears._

_The dreams start after Chanyeol bursts into flames in the middle of dinner, a sudden, uncontrollable inferno that has him writhing, clutching at his heart. Then its Jongin, who loses the ability to stay in one place, popping in and out of existence in a trail of smoke, fingers gripping at the hair on his head to stop the voices, the crying no one else could hear. But it's only after Sehun erupts in agony, losing control, blowing out all their windows with gusts of wind so powerful it nearly knocks the walls of the house down that Kyungsoo starts to worry. His dreams of a thunderstorm are pretty tame, but he worries about it escalating; he worries about whether he’s next to leave havoc in his wake._

_His dreams are from his mirror, they find that out after the eclipse. When the earth aligns with the moon and Kyungsoo sees a glimpse of upturned lips and lightning crackling in dark, mischievous eyes. The heart wrenching pain Chanyeol, Jongin, and Sehun feel are from losing theirs. Kyungsoo, when the dreams begin and his worries grow, doesn’t know Jongdae yet, isn’t familiar with his teasing or his steady, solid presence. All he knows is that he couldn’t let this stranger suffer by himself._

_So Kyungsoo does his best to answer the electricity snapping behind his eyelids with a taste of his own power, taking hold of the dream slipping through his consciousness as best he can to send ripples of energy the stranger’s way. It’s never really much and Kyungsoo always wakes up tired after, but it never comes either, the day Kyungsoo fears: the day he levels buildings, wreaks destruction, loses control, loses his mirror._

_So Kyungsoo keeps doing it. Keeps siphoning trickles of power into his dreams as often as he can, sending what he thinks is pulse after pulse of quiet, calming energy every night out of habit. Sometimes it works and Kyungsoo sleeps through to dawn without incident, and sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes Kyungsoo jerks wide awake, thunder and lightning flashing in his own reality, his head pounding and the thrum of energy sitting heavy low in his gut. On those nights, Kyungsoo finds himself running out into the storm, his chest threatening to explode if he doesn’t calm the buzzing of electric currents in the air. On those nights, Kyungsoo feels crazy, standing in the middle of a thunderstorm, waiting for lightning to strike because he wants it to, craves it, anticipates the sound of thunder so he can count out the seconds for bolts to appear in the sky. On those nights, Kyungsoo finds that the only way to find peace is to press an ear into the ground, command the earth to envelope him and lets it quake to match every clap of thunder and flash of lightning._

_Those nights are the longest and make the least sense, especially when Kyungsoo learns of the man in the mirror. Because the man in the mirror is happy, healthy, and thriving, a far cry from the helpless, nameless, spiral of negative energy that consumes Kyungsoo’s dreams. Kyungsoo is intrigued, nonetheless, excited even, to meet Jongdae in person. To see if the man in the mirror and the man in his dreams really are one and the same._

_There’s no specific order to who goes with Jongin. Chanyeol goes first because he volunteers. Baekhyun goes where Chanyeol does, so he goes after. When Kyungsoo finally musters up the courage to volunteer, Sehun asks if he can go with a haunted, pleading look in his eyes that neither Kyungsoo nor Junmyeon can deny. Then Jongin crumples to the floor after Sehun’s turn and he doesn’t get back up. After that, thoughts of who goes next are tabled for later, weeks later, when Jongin is recovered enough to stand on his own two feet and not fighting to stay rooted in one reality._

_When later arrives and Jongin is itching to see the nine of them completed, Junmyeon volunteers to go last, to make sure if anyone is left behind, it’s him. Kyungsoo would protest except Junmyeon’s words brook no argument, said in a tone that says_ don’t bother.

_So when it's time, Kyungsoo steps determinedly into the circle of Jongin’s arms and-_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

—

 

When he wakes, he’s in his room with the curtains drawn and the door slightly ajar. It’s dark, but light peeks out from the edges of the covered window; he has no idea what time it is. His thoughts are fuzzy and he feels slightly disoriented, dizzy almost when he tries to sit up. As his vision adjusts to the meager light in the room he spies a chair next to his bed and a mug of tea, half way full and still a little warm to the touch- evidence that someone had sat there watching him not too long ago. He’s parched however, throat so dry it clicks when he tries to swallow. He sips gingerly from the mug, wary of the churning in his gut, and the nausea threatening to make a reappearance of everything that might go down.

The tea is strong, brewed much too long, too bitter as it coats the back of his tongue. It’s a completely unfamiliar taste, nothing like the mild brews Yixing makes to help them with minor ailments. With a grimace, he finishes it off despite the terrible taste, too thirsty to care. Slowly gathering his thoughts and piecing together the last of what he remembers before succumbing to unconsciousness, he makes his way out of bed and into the hallway. Barefoot and uncaring of the cold swirling around his ankles, he follows the sound of voices down the hall and into the kitchen. He leans against the door way, waiting for someone to notice him. There’s a familiar stranger standing in the kitchen, congregating around the kitchen island along with Minseok and Yixing.

“Yes, the spheres are locked in place and haven’t moved since,” Yixing trials off to sip on a mug in his hands. “Luhan ge…left. The door usually stays locked too, and the only key is Luhan ge’s mind. But it’s been open since then.”

There’s a pause before the new face answers, “Well, I guess he wants someone to go inside.”

“You think so?” Minseok asks turning his head spotting Jongdae in the doorway as he does. “Oh good, you’re awake. Come here, there’s someone you should meet.”

“Jongdae,” Junmyeon says, coming forward with a warmth and open arms Jongdae isn’t quite sure is warranted but he’s more confused than anything at this point. “It’s good to finally meet you. How are you feeling?” 

“I feel fine,” Jongdae answers slowly, a sense of panic growing, looking from one hyung to another. “But, Junmyeon hyung- what are you doing here? I thought it was…I could have sworn it was Kyungsoo who-“

Yixing appears in front of him suddenly, taking Jongdae’s cold hands in his own. “Chen-ah,” he tsks, followed by a wave of warm energy that brings feeling air back into his contracting lungs. Another wave brings soothing calm, easing the tightness in Jongdae’s chest. Jongdae relishes the ability to breathe freely before jerking back, avoiding Yixing’s touch when he reaches out again. “You’re in pain, Chen-ah,” Yixing pleads gently, “Let hyung help you.”

“No, hyung,” Jongdae gasps, as anxiety and turmoil constrict his heart once more. “Where is he? Where’s Kyungsoo?”

“He’s here Chenchen, he’s here,” Yixing says firmly, reaching out to grip the back of Jongdae’s neck. He forces Jongdae to meet his gaze. “He’s here. He’s just outside. By the cliffs. He’s not going anywhere. No one else is going anywhere.”

“O-okay,” Jongdae nods shakily, struggling for a moment to breathe deep and stop the dizzying panic that had built in him so quickly. “I need to go- I need to see him.”

No one stops him as he makes his way outside. It’s still light out but it’s colder now, the temperature dropping quickly now that the summer months have come to close. Left, right, left, right, one foot in front of the other. He keeps the same pace even when the sky opens up and rain pours over him, leaving him soaked in seconds. The dirt path up the hill towards the cliffs barely visible with the wind and rain whipping around him, obscuring the way but Jongdae doesn’t lose his footing, knows this path like the back of his hand. He doesn’t know how long it takes but soon enough he can see the outline of someone standing near the edge, face upturned and watching the dark billowing clouds in the sky. 

Jongdae has only ever seen that face, that side profile reflected back at him, never in real life, but even then Kyungsoo is unmistakable. Jongdae is pulled to him just as the electricity is pulled to the earth, negative ions high above in the clouds searching, crossing layers of atmosphere to get to the positive charge below. It didn’t matter that they stood on different sides of reality, not even spaces in time could dim the force between them, pulling them together, like a magnet.

This time, when he closes his eyes and calls for thunder and lightning, it doesn’t light up the sky or rumble the clouds. This time, he holds out his hand and the energy coils there instead. 

“Hi,” he whispers, the sound almost lost in the sound of the rain. 

This time, too, the earth answers, but the ground doesn’t shake. This time, Kyungsoo slips a trembling hand into his own and the connection is instantaneous. “Hello,” he whispers back. 

And as Jongdae stands beside him, shoulder to shoulder being pelted by the rain, he can’t help but think it feels like coming home, feeling whole, feeling _grounded_ for the first time in a long time.


End file.
